What Comes After (Book 1): A Shepherd Cometh (27 page)

Tom walked to the figures in the middle of the concrete floor. Crouching beside them, he put a hand on Ben's shoulder and squeezed gently. “We can't stay here, Ben. Not right now, anyway.”

The child said nothing, his only reply the soft, unbroken sobs he offered wetly to Janessa's shirt. This prompted Tom to move his hand and cup the back of Ben's head. Applying gentle but firm pressure brought the boy's face away from Janessa's chest and turned it toward Tom. He struggled to find words to put the child's mind at ease and convince him of the wisdom of this course, but it turned out none were necessary.

Tom had no more than met Ben's gaze when every trace of sadness and reluctance fairly evaporated from the boy's face. Pulling free of Janessa's arms, the child raced across the garage toward the door to the offices. As the young man turned to follow the boy's course, he heard the child call out.

“Caleb!”

He saw Chris stepping through the doorway and noticed several things. First, the older man's hands were on his head. Secondly, his rifle was no longer over his shoulder. Lastly, where Tom thought that Chris should have been puzzled by the boy latched on to his leg, his instructor instead had an expression of relief. The older man stood clear of the door before crouching to embrace the boy tightly.

“I knew you wouldn't leave me,” Ben said.

Seeing what he could only consider a reunion of sorts, the Shepherd kept Chris and Ben in his peripheral vision. His focus was taken up by watching the other figures sweep into the vehicle bay. Three men slipped into the room, moving with ease that spoke of training, practice and experience. All wore the same digital forest camouflage, load-bearing equipment and armored vests. Two of them carried carbines, while the third had a shotgun. All three had their weapons held ready, but none were pointed at Tom or his companions. He watched them and thought,
First man left along the wall, second man right, third to the center of the room.
The men did exactly that. He knew because that was how he had been trained to enter a room with a similar team. Trained by the man crouching at Ben's side, holding the boy close.

The Shepherd's jaw worked as he ground his teeth. He felt Janessa shift and in case she was thinking to retrieve her rifle, Tom grabbed her forearm and squeezed it while shaking his head. He looked at Toby, who seemed anxious but watched Tom, ready to take his cue from the Shepherd. Tom's opinion of Janessa's brother changed immediately and for the better.

“Don't,” he called to the other young man. “See the grenades on their LBE's? If they wanted us dead, we'd be that way already.”

They waited only a few seconds more before two more men entered the garage. Both were dressed identically to the first and similarly equipped. The last man in stopped at the door and remained there, facing the hall from which they had come, weapon trained down the shadowed passage. The figure that preceded him strode to the center of the room and stood beside the man with the shotgun. These two men were only a couple of yards from where Tom and Janessa still knelt on the concrete, so it was easy for the Shepherd to take information from their uniforms.

The man with the shotgun had enough stripes on his sleeve to be a sergeant, and it was this man who had Chris's .30-06 across his back. The sergeant was a tall man with dark stubble on his broad, pale face. The other man had no patches below his shoulders, so Tom searched the collar for some indicator of rank. He found it: a patch in the shape of a leaf. Looking at the officers face, he gauged the darkened complexion to be about Chris's age, so he would err on the side of higher rank. Though this man was possibly an enemy, he would not offer insult unnecessarily. “What can we do for you, Colonel?”

“Major,” he corrected Tom. “Major Joseph Vargas, NATO-led ISAF, Third Marine Recovery Division. It isn't what you can do for me that's brought us out here. I'm hoping it's what we can do for you.”

Tom arched an eyebrow at the officer and looked pointedly at the other members of the major's squad. “And what might that be? 'Cause from where I'm sitting, it looks like what you can do for us involves something we don't want done.”

The major smiled. “I can see where it might seem that way.” He paused. “These men are here for your protection. As far as their number is concerned... You know how dangerous this area is. Even with our training, experience and equipment, we wanted to err on the side of caution. Better safe than sorry, especially where your well-being is concerned.”

Tom again noted how the soldiers had their weapons ready, but not pointed at any member of his group. They were spread out in a fashion that would allow them to control the room, but had made no overture toward such an action. Still doubtful, he posed another question. “Forgive me for asking, major: but what's our well-being to you?”

“You have been designated a VIP and as such, granted high-priority return status. This team was closest when the call went out, so we were given the assignment.”

Tom felt a sense of unease. “What assignment is that, then?”

Vargas frowned. “Our objective is the safe return of you and those in your company to an internationally recognized point of civilization. We're here to bring you home, son.”